


The Robes of a Monk

by Pippins_Mushr00ms



Category: Pilgrimage (2017)
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 08:28:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16155353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pippins_Mushr00ms/pseuds/Pippins_Mushr00ms
Summary: Okay there was this thing after De Merville's creepy comment in the woods and i wanted to balance it out with something kinda sweet, so enjoy a missing scene. :)





	The Robes of a Monk

Robes Of The Monk

* * *

_"Anyone can wear the robes of a monk,"_

Diarmuid froze when De Merville's gloved hand brushed the sleeve of his robe. The half-lidded, unwavering stare pierced him. With difficulty, the boy stared back, searching the distrustful face.

He felt fear, real fear, then. De Merville's dark eyes held a malice Diarmuid had never seen. He was too close. The smell of sweat, leather, and sickly sweet smoke filled his nostrils.

A twig cracked behind them and the young monk steeled himself not to flinch when De Merville spun around. His head went light in relief when he saw the Mute striding through the trees, scarred and shirtless. Carefully masked anger colored his face.

 _'Thank you, Lord,'_  he prayed silently.

De Merville shot another glance at him before putting his full attention on the hulking man approaching.

The Mute's expression darkened when he saw Diarmuid's robe hanging slightly off his shoulder. The boy's face was pale and impassive, but his wide eyes betrayed his fear. Trembling fingers poked out of his billowy sleeves.

"You," Sir Raymond hissed when he was close, his intense glare zeroing in.

The Mute didn't give any ground when De Merville strode into his space. He just looked down at him, head tilted, with a sarcastic, inquisitive expression clearly saying, "Yes? Is there a problem here?"

Diarmuid's heart thudded in his ears and he barely heard one of the other knights call the baron's son to mass. They all turned turned to the voice up the ridge automatically, the monk keeping one eye on Sir Raymond.

He looked back at the Mute when the soldier left, his eyes flashing dangerously.

 _"Another time, then,"_  De Merville whispered in French, leaning in.

The Mute just stared him down, remaining silent. His dark eyes crinkled slightly at the corners.

Then Sir Raymond turned and stalked away, throwing a nasty glare at the boy on his way past. Diarmuid met it, albeit a bit unsteadily. The Knight went up the hill and was gone.

Diarmuid let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding and had to gasp for another. His heart still beat wildly and his knees threatened to buckle. He would make sure to  _never_  be alone with that… man ever again. He wrung his hands together unconsciously inside his sleeves. An odd feeling of shame was creeping up his spine. He sucked in another lungful of air.

There was suddenly a steel hand on his shoulder that made him jump and the next thing he knew he was looking up at the Mute. He shook him gently, and drew him against his side. Diarmuid was grateful, as he wasn't entirely sure if his knees were quite ready to support him yet.

They stood like that for a few moments while he got his breathing under control and composed himself.

The Mute then held him at arms distance to look at the boy. He raised his eyebrows and dipped his chin slightly, as if to ask, "are you okay?"

"Yes, thanks to you," Diarmuid nodded. "Thank you."

He was rewarded with a slap on the side of his head that didn't really hurt, but still made him flinch in annoyance.

"Ow! Wha-?"

The monk looked up and met the Mute's gaze, ready to argue but his expression stopped him. The older man had one eyebrow quirked in a way that asked, "What the hell was that?" And to drive his point home, he jerked his chin in the direction in which Sir Raymond had departed.

"I don't know," Diarmuid replied, "I was only out here to make water and saw him sending a bird. Honestly, that's all. He's very… intense."

The Mute shook his head. He pointed in De Merville's direction, and waved a universal 'no' with his hands, clearly telling Diarmuid to stay away from him. To which Diarmuid nodded again in agreement.

That wasn't good enough for the Mute and he bent down, touching their foreheads together for just a moment to let him know he was serious. Then he pulled back to look at his young friend.

He pointed again and shook his head, smouldering eyes trying to convey just the amount of trouble a man like De Merville was. A man like him wasn't to be taken lightly. 

A man like him was capable of such acts that would make one _wish_ for death. The Mute saw that much when they'd first met.

"I promise, I'll stay away. You don't have to twist my arm on that one," Diarmuid said, with a shiver, he added, "There's something wrong about him. I've never seen…" he trailed off with another shiver when he thought of Sir Raymond's dark,  _dark_  eyes.

The Mute nodded silently, appeased for the moment. He drew the monk back in, touched foreheads again, and together they walked up the hill and back to camp.

-End-  
(And then Diarmuid immediately had to be the alter boy at mass lol.)


End file.
